Trixie my Muse is Best Friends
Trixie, my muse, runs screaming through the house with ideas
They bounce off furniture, turning into lightning bolts
The drapes are on fire; she cares not
She if foolish and reckless, a wild child who cannot be tamed
Wild knows wild, my imagination says, laughing at her antics
He and Trixie get along great; they are always cooking up something
Lightning bolts are zinging down the hallway
one misses my head by inches, they both laugh,
They are careless devils, my muse and my imagination
The house is burning down! My husband yells from the front room
We are all in flames before they are finished.
I run toward the shed, carrying my laptop.
They follow me, laughing manically.
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